


Somebody to die for

by Kira7



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), But in the story he will be an ass, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is flower shop Eden's owner, Crowley never was an angel, Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), Demon priest au, Demon/Human Relationships, First Meetings, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), I love the Archangel fucking Gabriel, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Priest Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Slow To Update, Sometimes bad habits of humans will be represented
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira7/pseuds/Kira7
Summary: A millennial demon with so many questions in their head, so curious, so eager to satisfy his thirst for knowledge, but without someone who can answer her thousand questions, because a demon cannot ask how God is, or why the world is like that, or how it feels to be loved... A demon cannot rebel.A priest with so many desires, so much desire to rebel against a world that is narrow to him, having to submit to the orders of the celestial hosts, yet he can do nothing... Imprisoned in that glass cage, Aziraphale must be silent and endure, because that's what a human does, that's what Gabriel and the others expect from him, and he can't rebel.Hell and Heaven have been at war for millennia, but it's precisely in the worst moments that the unexpected can arise. And you, what are you willing to fight for?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of demon/priest isn't mine, I remember there is on tumblr a blog in which there are fanarts of Demon Crowley and Priest Aziraphale, I don't remember their name though, if someone know them please tell me and I tag them to credit them for the idea.  
> Aside that, this fanfiction will not end well though, as you can say in the tags; in each ways you want to continue this journey with me or not, I'll thank you! 😄 One more things: I enjoyed a RPG and the first character I played was Crowley, but there were a few limitations.  
> ~ Only Satan was the fallen angel, other demons were born after the rebellion, in Hell;  
> ~ Someone tempted Adam and Eva, but this character must not be a role player;  
> ~ Angels and Demons can become biologically parents (not a/b/o related).  
> Then I accepted these conditions and said "Ok, let's see if Crowley is still Crowley, even with some changes"; I still continue to play, and now I'd like to write a fanfiction about it.  
> Title is born listening [Someone to die for](https://youtu.be/Pt1kc_FniKM) by Hurts  
> Enjoy the little prologue! ^^

_I am a demon, one of the oldest, my name was Crawly, but I decided to changed it to Crowley, I liked it more. I didn't experience the Rebellion or the Fall, I was born after them, in a pool full of lava, I can't say it was like a sauna, totally different, totally... Mph not my favourite. Y-you can't understand how it is to ssswim in sssomething that burnsss you alive, and not only your body, but your soul, if we are supposed to have a soul... Then humans were created, and after they ate a red apple, they were banished from The Garden. I wasn't there, but I can imagine how was the Eden, and I was envy to not be the one who could tempt the humans, Beelzebub did, how lucky. However, Hell decided to send me and other demons upon, on the Earth, to make some troubles and got out of there; it was my chance! The show just began!  
My name is Crowley, Anthony J. Crowley, I'm still a demon, I'm a florist at my plants' shop "Eden", and after all these millennia I still like Earth, but nobody in Hell must know it._

The demon must find this unfortunate soul, he must convince they to sign up a soul contract, they are one of the most important and influential people of Country's politic, Crowley has to do it to not have problems with Hell.  
The person is a bit uncertain to sign the contract, but at the end they do it, their soul for power and money, how typical. But the demon doesn't have to complain about it, he just did his job, nothing more, he's safe from Hell's Rage.  
Crowley doesn't like his situation, but he accepts it, of course he doesn't want to say goodbye to his favourite part of Hell, a lot of singers, music composers and so on, they all are good guys, but sometimes he wishes to be free, to be like humans, with a choice, why are demons not allowed to have a choice? Why are they obligated to follow rules? Aren't they the bad guys? So they don't need rules, it's simple, is it? And why, if they meet an angel, they must fight? Aren't angels the quintessence of love?  
These and other questions are inside demon's mind, Crowley is quite sure it's prohibited to ask someone these doubts (why?), but the most dangerous one he has in mind, the one who even himself is afraid to formulate, is the one he had since he was born, in that pool full of lava, and it never leaves his mind.  
How does it feel to be loved by God?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to scream with me, you can find me on [ **Tumblr** ](https://kira-7.tumblr.com) or [ **Twitter** ](https://mobile.twitter.com/kira7_13) 😄


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day with Anthony J. Crowley

"All you have to do is sign here."

"And then?"

"And then chhhampagne, women, money! You'll enjoy your life! At least, what you have left to live."  
The politician doesn't think twice about it, he immediately signs the contract and smiles satisfied as he is delivering the sheet to the demon.

"Mr. Crowley, it's been a pleasure doing business with you."  
Crowley makes the contract disappear and puts his hands in his pockets, not returning the handshake with the human.

"The pleasure is mine. Now I have to go. You know, the things that a demon usually does, temptations, defeat angels, have someone unwary sign a piece of paper."

The man smiles and claps once his hands, under that demonic gaze hidden by a pair of sunglasses, "Then see you soon."  
The demon takes that phrase as a farewell signal and leaves, considering his daily work finished, now he can finally relax; the door of his car opens automatically to let the owner in, the Bentley waits for him across the street, lights up and starts with Freddie Mercury's voice to cheer up the trip.

Crowley drives to his flower shop, and immediately he can sense his plants' fear, oh, what a pleasure to torture such defenseless creatures during these millenias; he opens the door and smiles diabolically, "Did you missss me?"  
The plants shaken in despair, and Anthony studies them to look for anything that isn't right, there's always something wrong. Then, there it is: an anthurium plant's leaves are limp, probably due to too much sun; and yet, the demon isn't moved, on the contrary, he takes the vase and begins to observe it.

"What did I say about being thriving despite adversity? EH?! HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED ANYTHING!"  
The plants shake, in some way to apologize and be forgiven. Anthony gets even more angry and, to prove it, goes to the back shop, opens a window and throws away the plant, guilty of not having been strong enough. The sound of a broken vase reaches the ears of the demon, who is considered satisfied, he can say even this work is very well finished.

"And next time," he says as he exits the shop, "GROW BETTER!"

The door is slammed and closed, when the demon is stopped by an elderly woman, "Excuse me," she calls him trying to get his attention, "Are you already closing the shop?"

"I don't want to deal with people today."

"But," the woman tries to protest, "They serve for church statues."

Crowley snorts, amused or irritated is not known, "If that's for that purpose, then, consider my shop closed forever."

* * *

Once he gets home, Crowley puts down his sunglasses and he sits on an eighteenth-century throne, turns on the television to get a little distracted, then suddenly he stops the zapping to see a culinary competition program in which an actor peels an onion with a potato peeler.

"Hell," thinks Crowley, "There's a chaotic person right here."  
Too much chaotic for him, indeed, but it could be an idea for some trick next time. Humans, such an extraordinary invention!

" _Crawly_."

"Erm, y-yeah?"

That actor looks into the camera, watching the demon, " _What are your plans to give new specimens that can serve our Lord_?"

"I'm workin' on it, just let me look for the perfect one."

The actor's expression seems a mix between disappointing and disgusting, the it changes, " _We receive that new soul who signed the contract with you_."

"Oh uhm pf, sounds... Evil."

That human grins unnaturally, " _Get ready for another goal to be achieved, it will come soon_."  
Crowley nods, yeah, of course! Another assignment! Yuhu, another seed of chaos!

" _And Crawly, remember that our Lord needs new young devil blood_ ," that devilish voice says before disappearing and everything turns back to normal, expect for the demon, who turns off the television and goes to bed, he suddenly feels very tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to scream with me, you can find me on [ **Tumblr** ](https://kira-7.tumblr.com) or [ **Twitter** ](https://mobile.twitter.com/kira7_13) 😄


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Read me please** : I inserted the tag " _Genderfluid Crowley_ " because, starting from this chapter, I will write about Crowley as he was in the tv series, changing gender from time to time. However, I'm not sure that it is the right term for what I have in mind (I am trying to learn), so if the tag should be incorrect, please report it, I will fix it as soon as possible. Thank you! (^.^)/

A couple of weeks pass, and Crowley is intent on meeting a famous journalist, both on Earth and in Hell, for the same identical reason: every time there is news about a military confrontation, her name appeared under the words " _War Correspondent_ ", Scarlett Zuigiber, as if she has dedicated her entire life to war. For humans, she is almost a heroine, one who doesn't fear danger, a person to admire; for the high leaders of Hell, however, she's a resource, for what exactly Crowley doesn't know, but in all frankness he doesn't want to get into too serious matters, he prefers to be aware of what is strictly necessary.

The demon parks the Bentley and, before heading to a bar, he scrutinizes the area to verify that it's free; once this is ascertained, he opens the door, its bell jingles, and he notices, sitting at a circular table, a woman with thick auburn hair gathered in a high tail, a black and red sleeveless striped shirt, tight jeans and red shoes; the woman turns to smile at him, like the cat smiles at a mouse, but the demon doesn't allow himself to be influenced and approaches the woman's table, she doesn't take away her warm gold eyes from the slim demon.

"Mr. Anthony J. Crowley, I presume," greets him with a perfect, white and sharp smile, continuing to turn the straw of a previously ordered milkshake.

"You presume well, Miss Zuigiber."

"Call me Scarlett, please, Miss Zuigiber makes me feel too old. Do you want something to drink or eat?"

"I'm okay this way," he crosses one leg.

The woman looks down and continues to smile, "I would say you would be the perfect client for a friend of mine, I think you know him, Doc. Raven Sable."  


"Never heard of him, do we want to proceed?"  
The meeting involves an exchange of information, in the form of two folders, all Crowley knows is that Hell offers the woman important informations and she, in return, delivers names of important people, with whom Hell would have done business sooner or later; while Scarlett looks hungry at the beginning of the documents, Crowley watches her carefully, if he isn't sure he doesn't feel any demonic aura, except his own, Crowley is convinced he is facing another demon.

"I'd say there is nothing else," he tries to end the meeting, and Scarlett doesn't mind that.

"I would say no," indeed she discharges, nibbling the straw in a sensual way, "Don't you want to stay and enjoy the show that will take place soon?"  
Wherever this woman went, something big was unleashed, shootings, wars, murders and anything else, it isn't prudent to be with her, not even for someone like Crowley.

"I'd rather not," he gets up from his chair, holding the folder he must give to his bosses tight, "There would be a lot of work to be done, millions and millions of documents to be signed, not to mention the long bureaucracy to get a new body."

The woman widens her smile, "I always forget how things work down there. It has been a pleasure doing business with you."

"I wish I could say the same thing."

The next day, Crowley learns from the television that a clash broke out between the demonstrators and the police near the bar, but the demon devotes little attention to it, he has another job to do.

* * *

Anger is a fun feeling to be generated in humans, which is why she is in the subway's control center and starts to handle with technology, pressing a few keys here and there, moving different levers, passing line 4 on line 9, giving the line 6's stop at line 3, giving travelers a small tour of the stops, giving them a few moments of bewilderment, anger, anxiety, he is always a generous demon.

"What are you doing here, Miss?"

Crowley turns to the guard behind her, moistening her lips which for the occasion are highlighted by a beautiful dark lipstick, "Quality control, everything is fine here."  
Having said that, after checking one last time the perfect job she did, Crowley walks away to head for the exit of the building, but the doors are locked, forcing her to remain closed there with the other humans.

"What happened?"  


"Some fool has combined a mess with the technology department, we have to understand what the problem is before we can reopen the doors."

"Call Newt Pulsifer."  
And the demon rolls her eyes, puffing distressed when the electric current is completely gone, never once this kind of jokes work well.

* * *

For a demon like Crowley, life on Earth isn't blissfully disgusting, it has its positive sides, such as the possibility of being able to lick the walls without anyone shouting not to do it, or technology, a great human invention, one of the best. He doesn't mind humans, sometimes it's fun to deal with them, but knowing that he must generate servants with them for an upcoming war with Heaven doesn't make him comfortable, for several reasons. Yet Hell never hears reasons, and every time on his performance it says " _Refuse to mate_ ", can't one choose to avoid certain obligations?

The demon is in a night club to make several contracts with any human being willing to sell their soul, he must somehow make up for his lack of interest in procreating. Crowley carries a lock of his red hair behind his ear and approaches a man who looks at two girls kissing a few sofas away from him; the man sighs and drains a glass of alcohol.

"How much I wish I could watch them while having sex, I'd do anything. You too, my friend?," he turns to Crowley.  
Crowley looks at those two girls again, raising an eyebrow, wondering what certain people find in spying on such activities, but a contract is still a contract, and that man said the keywords.

"Have you said anything?"

"Anything," he confirms, without taking his eyes off that scene.

"Even sell your soul?"

The man looks at Crowley in amazement, as if he has asked for something impossible, and then begins to laugh, "Who are you, the devil?"

"I would say one who can help you. Then?"

"As if you really could make it real."

"Not real, just give you a chance," the demon wiggles slowly netx to the man, placing a sheet of paper on the counter.

"What's this?"

"The document from the hotel where those two girls booked a room, just sign it and the room will be yours too."

"Is it legal?"

"What about to watch two strangers kiss each other?"

The man swallows, intimidated by that individual who stares at him behind a pair of dark glasses, "Okay," he finally says with a whisper.

Crowley smiles satisfied and brings up a pen to offer it to the man, "Enjoy the show," he wishes before heading to the exit door, but his escape is blocked by a female figure wearing an elegant beige suit.

"Do you want something?," he asks.

"You should be Crawly."  
_Crowley_ , the demon corrects her mentally, but he has other things to think about, feeling the angelic aura of the person in front of him.

"Who do I have the pleasure to talk to?," he tries to take time.

"Uriel."  
Therefore, an angel, the demon ascertains.

Usually, when a demon come across an angel, there are two choices, fight or run away; in the specific case of Crowley, who is in a night club full of people, fighting would mean sacrificing all those people just because he ran into an angel, and it's not that he likes killing people so much, but this is another topic that no one, neither the angels nor his infernal colleagues, must know. The only solution is to run away.

Immediately, the demon snaps his fingers and teleports to the first place that comes to mind, that is a cemetery, not bad, he has that sort of romantic, gothic, melodramatic thing, considering that it could be his definitive end, if that angel followed him (she will) and should use her flaming sword, or Holy Water, and it's very likely that she will. Too bad for his beloved Bentley, it remained there, all alone, in front of that place, who will take care of it?  
The air becomes rarefied for a second, and the angel appears behind Crowley, ready to kill him.

"Can't we talk about it as two normal millennial beings?," he questions rhetorically, well aware of the answer, and begins to avoid the angel's blows.

Uriel, in fact, strikes some blows with her sword, hitting the demon on his right side and his left shoulder, and she's ready to cut his neck, but fortunately Crowley moves away at the last moment and the angel cuts only a few hairs of his. The injuries hurt the demon, and Crowley warns his human body to ask for a moment of rest to recover from the efforts, however he's thin he is not used to physical activities and the ability to perform demonic miracles is compromised by the injuries, therefore he is forced to run using his legs. Crowley is in a dead end, turns around and in front of him is Uriel, ready to finish him.  
The demon is exhausted, full of sweat, shortness of breath and his snake eyes, uncovered because of the sunglasses lost during the escape, leak fear, to disappear forever, to no longer exist, to never be able to receive answers to his innumerable questions, to never be able to hear what it means to be loved.

"Prepare to die, demon."  
And it's perhaps the fear that makes him clench his fists, summoning Infernal Flames, ready to throw them against that angel, he isn't yet ready to disappear, when a third voice attracts the attention of the two otherworldly creatures from afar.

"Who's there?"  
Uriel disappears immediately, wishing not to be seen by a human, while Crowley withdraws the Hell Fire and, with a blurred vision, falls to the ground, his eyelids are too heavy to keep them open. The last thing he notices is a white figure approaching him, a warm touch on his cheek and a sweet and kind voice.

"My Lord, what have they done to you? Poor thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess who is that human at the end?
> 
> If you want to scream with me, you can find me on [ **Tumblr** ](https://kira-7.tumblr.com) or [ **Twitter** ](https://mobile.twitter.com/kira7_13) 😄


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meet between Crowley and his human saviour, alas it doesn't end well... More or less...  
> What is this priest hiding? Who knows?

Warm... The demon has awakened with a warmth that spreads throughout the body, from toes to cheekbones. If it depends on him, Crowley will sleep there for centuries, as he did during the fourteenth century, long story...

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes, at first his vision is blurred, but after a few seconds he manages to focus: it's a room lit only by the fire of a fireplace, there is an old Persian carpet, the couch on which he rested (who had brought him there?) is one of those that doesn't seem comfortable at first glance, but his human can confirm it's one of the most comfortable things he has rested on, the whole room smelled of dust, incense, hot chocolate and books... The environment around him seems welcoming, and this makes him feels a bit of discomfort, which forces the demon to sit on the couch to look for his trusty sunglasses (where are they?), but when he notices a white wool blanket slipping off his shoulder Crowley really begins to wonder who is that naïve to have welcomed him into their home!

"Oh," exclaims a male voice behind him, Crowley instinctively stiffens his shoulders, ready to be kicked out once that man sees his eyes, "You woke up, thank goodness."  
The demon hears footsteps getting closer and closer, and when he sees a man in his fifties, dressed in light suits, very similar to those worn by angels, with light hair that looks like a halo illuminated by fire, he moves away as far as possible, hissing menacingly and with flames in his eyes; his reaction seems to surprise the one Crowley has cataloged as one of the other faction.

"Are you alright?," he asks, reaching out a hand to touch Crowley's face, now covered with scales.  
This gesture does nothing but alarm Crowley even more, who jumps to his feet and begins to scream menacingly.

"Jussst try to get a little closer, angel, and my anger will be the lassst thing you sssee!"  
Theoretically, at these words, a true angel would have drawn their sword, or any other weapon they possesses, to wage a battle with the demon that would end once one or both of them disappeared for good, yet that angelic being is staying still, his face is a mixture of fear and embarrassment, his eyes begin to wander left and right, and his hands gripp a steaming white cup tightly.

"You have to forgive me, dear," he begins to reply, still keeping his eyes down, "I think I don't know what you're saying."

"You're lying," the demon hisses proudly, ready to annoy him by making fun of him, "First your colleague's joke, now your lie! I didn't think that Up there they accepted such behavior, they really fell down."

The other man bites his lower lip, looking away, "I'm not a real angel," he confesses, as his fingers drum on the cup, "Just a simple priest."  
This time, Crowley doesn't smell the lie, even if his instinct whispers that the man is hiding something from him, but for the moment the demon decides to overlook and move on to a much more important topic.

"And may I know why a _priessst_ ," the word is underlined with all the hatred he can feel, "has decided to help a demon."  
The man sits in the armchair, completely ignoring the demon's threatening aspect, he continues to look down and only a couple of minutes later he passes his hand over his face and decides to look up, to point it straight into Crowley's eyes, not at all disturbed to see them so inhuman.

"You asked me to save you," he says dryly, getting some verve back in remembering the scene, "And as a priest I can't back down, not even when the devil themself is asking me for help!"  
That truth has the power to destabilize Crowley, partly astonished to see such grit in a mortal being, partly afraid of knowing that it was he himself who asked for help, a demon should never have done it, never should have shown a own weakness, anyone could take advantage of it, the other demons would not have missed the opportunity.

"Do you know that one mussst never trussst a demon?," he must not show himself weak, he must not show himself weak, this is what Crowley mentally repeats in his mind as he begins to walk around that man who looks like an angel, "We aren't ssso merccciful, in fact, I would say far from it," a heavy laugh shakes his shoulders, while his forked tongue begins to sniff the air to catch any shade of fear.

Despite the veiled threat, the man shows no signs of fear regarding his situation, "I know perfectly well," he affirms confidently, "But I wouldn't have forgiven myself anyway."  
The demon can't believe his ears, who the hell is he talking to, the new Messiah 2.0 last generation? He can't hold back a derisive laugh.

"This does you honor, young man, and tell me, what would you like from me?"

This time it's the man who gives him a startled look, not expecting such a question, "I beg your pardon?"  
As much as he can take advantage of the situation, and it might be funny, Crowley doesn't think of himself as such a devious demon... Bad, evil, chaotic, troublemaker, impossible to love, ruthless, sure, it's in his demonic nature after all... But ungrateful no, he doesn't feel it as something that belongs to him, and being in debt to a human being isn't well seen by other demons, at least so he believes, it has never happened that a hellish being was saved by a human.

"Yes, in short, an exchange of favors," he twirls his hand as if the argument were a trivial matter, and it must remain so, "I asked you for the favor of being saved, in short... Request a new body it's a pain in the ass down there, the bureaucracy wasn't invented by you humans, I assure you," why are he telling all that? Better get back to business, "I could do whatever you want in return, and I'll give you a special discount, I won't ask for your soul in return."

Observing and judging the man's shocked expression, his proposal isn't liked so much, "You're lucky, it doesn't happen every day, take advantage of it while you are in time."

"Good heavens, no!"

The man gets up from his armchair, places the cup on a shelf, along with other white cups, and begins to look carefully at the two doors, at each window, as if someone are to emerge at any moment, "Thinking about it, I think I did the wrong thing to helping you the other night."

"No, it's a natural thing to help a damned one, it happens quite every day," Crowley replies sarcastically, observing that bundle of human nerves that is spinning around the room, mumbling about calls, about God's plans, about his poor soul, about what they might say (Crowley doesn't know who), then he turns in his direction, and only now the demon realizes that human's hazel eyes. Before uttering any other sentence to tempt him to pay off his debt, Crowley is taken by the shoulders and is pushed away, his protests are worthless, and he is so unprepared for such a reaction that he isn't ready to miraculous himself exactly where he wants, he simply crosses the corridor and a small, unarmed sitting room, until he arrives in front of what should be the front door, and is thrown out.

"Please don't come back," the man on the other side of the door begs.  
Crowley puts his arms on his hips and looks at the well-finished wooden door for a few minutes, then he clicks his tongue in disapproval and leaves... Tsk!, as if he wants to come back, _he_ , with everything he has to do, with all the contracts he has to complete, and all the new assignments that Hell will give him in the future... With a human, a _priest_ , no less!, what he should be done with him, lead him into temptation? Those things were done in the Middle Ages, Hastur can still do it, or Ligur, both of them are still stuck at those times' techniques, not like him, who has modernized himself, for Hell's Sake!

...   
...   
He asked to be saved...

As he walks home, the demon thinks about the answers that human has given... How could certain words have come out of his lips? Why? What blessed thing has he come up with?! A damned cannot be saved, a demon cannot ask for help, a priest cannot help an occult being like him!  
Instinctively, Crowley puts his hand in the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he is too exposed, but he doesn't feel the usual swelling formed by his sunglasses, where does he leave them?!

* * *

The dark and shattered lenses of a pair of sunglasses reflect the man who is sitting back in the armchair, and sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with one hand to make the fatigue pass. He shouldn't have helped a demon, yet it was stronger than him, it was an instinct that he hadn't been able to doze, but how could he suppress it? When that devil opened his eyes to ask him for help, he should have felt fear, yet he remained still, motionless, captured by those serpentine irises that weren't frightening, they seemed frightened, they weren't threatening, instead they transmitted a fear almost as old as the universe...

To pass that bit of anxiety that begins to grip his stomach, the priest rubs his palms on the fabric of his trousers, letting himself be lulled for a moment by the sweet sensation it causes... If they find out what he did, they will use their own powers to reguard him, again, the man just has to hope that whatever angel was fighting that demon, they didn't report to Gabriel.

"Aziraphale, what a nice surprise to see you here," a voice thunders behind him, then exhibiting a far from true laugh, and the priest opens his eyes and raises them to Heaven to ask for mercy from the good Lord who watches over him.  
Can a ' _speak of the devil_ ' be addressed to an Archangel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to scream with me, you can find me on [ **Tumblr** ](https://kira-7.tumblr.com) or [ **Twitter** ](https://mobile.twitter.com/kira7_13) 😄

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and see you soon! ^^


End file.
